Ko Prime, outer trophy world of the Arkane Guard, was in turmoil. The recent Immortal conquest on Fico had lead to civil revolution in hundreds of galactic worlds, ranging from all ends of the spectrum, from in favor to against the Immortals. The FELC, former Guard allies, had felt this the worst over the few weeks since Fico, completely withdrawing from combat and dealing with the situation at home, while eventually returning to the open field and declaring themselves a part of the resistance. This led to the split between the powerful Guard and the politically influenced Federation, and pulled away the weapons that the Federation had access to. But here, the civilians of Ko wished to join the neighboring trade worlds of the FELC.

Markus Morane, captain of the Guard Cruiser Adamant, stared down at the peaceful lights of Ko Prime on the nightside of the planet from his captain's seat at the bridge. Several strike teams had landed -3.00 kliks ago and reports from them were chattering away at the communcation officer's stand to his left. His eyes were drawn to the main monitor, showing the POV of the team's leaders, all of whom were making their way towards the centers of unrest. There had not yet been shots fired, but Markus expected it before the ship's day was up. Hotspot worlds like this always devolved into open fire from his experience. He currently controlled a half-crewed patrol cruiser, armed with two outrigger battlelanders and a pair of weather-worn fighters- all known as Markus's Force, reowned throughout the Guard for quelling resistance and their excellent records in urban combat. Situations such as this did not pose as much as a challenge than most to these weather-worn soldiers. The Guard would be hard-pressed to retain this world with minimal loss of life. It remained yet to be seen what had caused this to happen now, after other rebellions had come and gone, but that was a question he must now answer...

[Will we be using combat dice in this match? Or will descriptions suffice?]

"It's been a long, hard few months. All of our outside contacts have cut communications with us, leaving us in the dark to fend for ourselves on this God forsaken world. Immortal control has turned this place into a wasteland of slag and smog. We were sent here to find out why, and then abandoned at the slightest sign of trouble.

"The Scythians are gonna catch hell for this when we get outta here.

"For now, though, we gotta work on actually managing to get outta here. We were betrayed, yes, but will we still get paid if we get it done? Will the alliance hold out? Sure. So there's no reason we won't carry through our end of the bargain.

"These past few weeks were the worst. Supplies are running low, and our contact deals between two local thug gangs has caused some in-fighting. We figure the next step is to take it straight to the government... but being under an Alliance banner on an Immortal world is not the best place to go preaching. So we're just going to do what we do best and take them the fight, as it were. In a roundabout sort of way.

"What's the best way to talk to the government without actually speaking? Revolution, baby. We're going to blow the roof off of this world and replace it with a gilded steel crash cage, and thus gain some territory for the Alliance. Now, if that means the war rages on for a few years, then we can at least get some good arms dealerships going on our behalf. Smuggling runs can rope in the credits hand-over-fist if you know what you're doing.

"But I guess it's not all about the money. For now, we hunker down and wait it out. I've heard some whispers that an Arkane Guard cruiser was in orbit, and was investigating the suppression of the rebellious rumblings. Too bad for us, I guess. Then again, for all we know, they still don't know we're here... they're probably on assignment from higher authority under the pretense of further "Fico incited riots." We'll have to wait and see."

[Text should suffice just fine. Also, sorry if this isn't what you intended... I kinda took the idea and ran a couple miles off-track with it.]

EDIT: Wow, it's been a while since I've done any writing... that whole passage was... really bad. Oh well.

Commander Soras Qui of Markus's Force stepped over the prone body and raised the flash into the eyes of his guide. "The parties always get this rough?" he quipped as the rest of his crew followed him into the den. The man simply turned and motioned towards the open door at the end of the hall. Soras raised an eyebrow, which was lost on the guard through his faceplate, and turned to face it. He really didn't like these parts of the mission. Relations with self-described revolution leaders had to be established before they were crushed, according to the book, but some of these gang leaders could be unpredictably violent and have a nasty habit of burning the book before Soras could get them to read it.

Entering the door, Soras blinked, looking around the smuggler's den. Exotic goods draped over priceless containers of Genuine AllSpice provided a counterpoint to the smog-filled air and bonded slaves centered around the chair- no, throne- at the middle of the room. Seated was a woman of twenty years old, dressed in a tan bodice and red headdress and gazing inquisitively at Soras. As the rest of his crew tromped into the room, he removed his helmet and bowed his head towards her. "Eve, I presume." "You presume correctly," she said, motioning for the slaves to pull cushions out for the soldiers. "Would you care to partake of my services? Becoming profitable business partners requires a bit of celebration." "Thank you, but no," Soras said, remaining standing. "I came here today to discuss the revolution and your hand in it." She smiled. "Of course, but first?" Soras motioned for the briefcase. His secondary handed it to Eve. She set it to the side. "Excellent. Now, about this rebellion..."

"Things are escalating far faster than expected. We've stretched our canvas too far, and some critical information has slipped out from underneath of it while our backs were turned.

"Eve Ereitani, one of several smuggling rings on Ko, was entrusted with a parcel of locational info for some new recruits and a few thousand credits, as well as some rare OTC artifacts. All three of these things are now missing. She blames the idiocy of her servants, and offered to have one turned over to our custody for "a lesson in precision." I would have considered that offer had I not had my suspicions.

"Still, I accepted him, just to put her at ease and to save the poor bastard. I figure, if she has the capability to go behind her back, we should leave a few doors open as we move along. The guy was timid, and I don't blame him... "

"There was an immediate scramble throughout Ko as we packed up and hauled off to new locations, hand-picked by me and a few of the other officers at 3am that morning. It was a rushed job, and there'll definitely be traces of our exit left behind, but they knew we were there already; there was no stopping that.

"As for what happens now? We do some more fucking waiting. Hunker down, grit our teeth, and see what happens next. It's only a matter of time before one of our locales is discovered.

"Until then, I've sent a dispatch to deal with Eve. There have been no reports yet, but they're not supposed to be in contact until one week from now. After all, the assassination of such an... infamous figure takes some patience and a lot of manpower.

"If all goes according to plan, we'll send all the rats in our midst a message with Eve's death, and be able to hide from the Arkane Guard for a little longer. It's not long now before full-scale rebellion breaks loose and tears this planet apart... I can only pray that it comes fast enough."

It's not raining fire, only explosives. The readouts on the lander's screen blink with icons signaling sectors of the city that are under open fire as one of the company's two fighters swoops over the rooftops. There's a sound of shattering glass and a storefront bursts into flames. A few bodies in civilian dress lie still amid the rubble as two armored men stand in the cover of the lander's pad, watching the street. One of them raises his sidearm, following where the bottle came from, and there's a flash of light- a figure ducks out of sight on a rooftop as the bolt impacts against the wall. The store's awning comes crashing down in a fit of fabric, glass behind it already shattered from the looting a few hours ago. Missed.

Commander Soras is on the comm with the Adamant in the front of the lander, leaning over the shoulder of the pilot who's currently busy providing targeting information to the fighter overhead. Two lights are blinking on the unit- one's a call from the city's governing body trying to get Soras to stop, and the other's a general distress call from the local enforcement asking for backup. He glances over his shoulder towards the bodies in the street as he waits for Control's response. Civilians don't go into riots with plasma weaponry, even former Federation civilians. Control starts to speak. "I'm seeing red on East, but the Second's currently occupied. What is it?"

"We need a foothold on East's situation and the unit's currently busy babysitting the enforcers just south of there. Ace One is seeing several blocks on fire with many people in the streets, there's some data on large weaponry-" Another light flickers on, blinking faster than the others. He motions for the pilot to grab it as he continues, but the transmission cuts him off. "Roger that, Commander, the Second is headed that way now. Keep in mind that we don't exactly have very many boots on the ground here. Keep a level head." "Understood, Control." He sets the comm down and turns to the pilot, who is tapping out coordinates with one hand still on the headset. "What is it?" The pilot glances up at him. "Ace is running a scan. That 'large weapon' we saw earlier on East and Market is a Miltek Secondary Grenadier. If they reach the standing armory with heavy artillery we're going to be dealing with a lot more than handweaponry... here, this is the feed." He flicks a switch and Soras watches as the view drifts over a burning city. Twelve weeks is plenty of time to bring a world to it's knees, and when the responsible party has a knack for disappearing into the woodwork as they're chewing it apart around them- A rattle of gunfire rings out from the back of the lander as one of his men ducks back into the vehicle, the other laying down a pattern over an alleyway. Soras shakes his head. Something else is going on here, but there's no telling what.

"It's a about a month since I've last recorded a log. There are two reasons for that. For the first three weeks, there was nothing to say. The usual calls were made on a regular basis, ships carrying our ever-important contraband came and went, weaponry distributed, money changed hands- the works. And then in this past week, everything exploded.

"Let's get this straight. I've seen my fair share of insurrections. The populace rises up, whether fueled behind the scenes or not. The government reacts, trying to take out the archstone of the operations while the various rebel cells strike back into the heart of the governmental centers, trying to make their limited shots count. Never have I seen anything move so /fast./ It's like shaking a bottle of good champagne. The cap's off and suddenly the floor around you is covered in bubbly.

"5 days ago, I received a report that a fucking cruiser is floating in atmo above us. Some garbled mention of a 'Markus' fellow gave me all the info I needed on that ship. There's no doubt about it- they sent in Markus' Boys. Infamous bastards, and well-trained. It was the least of what I was expecting, but at least it tells me that the Guard knows something's up. Perhaps the tip-off situation with Eve went even more poorly than I thought it had. Regardless, we've got their best attacks dogs pounding on our door, armed to the teeth and ready for action. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't look like they were prepared to deal with civilians who were equally armed. The first few months here were spent dutifully distributing all of our arms, and pulling in favors from some of the underground boys off-world. We were able to hand out some pretty heavy-duty equipment. Thank God most of it was aim-n-shoot stuff- I'd be terrified to let something like a Grenadier loose with these guys. Blasted things are difficult enough for trained personnel to use.

"I'll record another one in a few days, if I get a chance. For now, we're staying as low-profile as possible. If we see an opening, we'll take it, but so far it's too hot. If we pop up now, we'll be beat down like it's our job to die."